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Updated: June 11, 2025
And so "I will unto my holy work again," which at present is the description of that heilige Kleeblatt, that worshipful triumvirate, Danton, Robespierre, and Marat. I cannot conceive what possesses me, over every person besides, to mislay papers. I received a letter Saturday at e'en, enclosing a bill for £750; no deaf nuts.
To say that Mr Altham was struck dumb with amazement would be no figure of speech. He stared from the Archbishop to Amphillis, and back again, as if his astonishment had fairly paralysed his powers, that of sight only excepted; and had not Regina roused him from his condition of helplessness by an exclamation of "Ach, heilige, Maria!" there is no saying how long he might have stood so doing.
And I lifted my finger and said to him, ‘Boy, Gott der Vater.’ He laughed and said, ‘Gott der Vater.’... ‘Gott der Sohn.’ He laughed again and lisped, ‘Gott der Sohn.’ ‘Gott der heilige Geist.’ Then he laughed and said as best he could, ‘Gott der heilige Geist.’ I went away, and two days after I happened to be passing, and he shouted to me of himself, ‘Uncle, Gott der Vater, Gott der Sohn,’ and he had only forgotten ‘Gott der heilige Geist.’ But I reminded him of it and I felt very sorry for him again.
And the friends came back and they had beer, and more music. And I had to get up and put on the wet clothes once more. May 2d. I was crouching out on one of the docks last night. I had no place else to go. I can think anywhere, if it is quiet. A wonderful thing is the night. I bless Thee for the night, oh "susse, heilige Natur"! It was a voice in my soul, as clear as could be.
Both looked at the lights on the Christmas tree. “Let us sing something,” said Philippina. She began with a hoarse, bass voice, “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,” and Agnes joined in with her high, spiritless notes. Another pause followed after they had finished singing. “Where is my father?” asked Agnes suddenly, without looking at Philippina.
The three things up to now that have got me most on that side, got me on the very raw of it I'll tell you now, now that I can't see your amused eyes looking at me with that little quizzical questioning in them the three things that have broken my heart each time I've come across them and made me only want to sob and sob, are when Kurwenal, mortally wounded, crawls blindly to Tristan's side and says, "Schilt mich nicht dass der Treue auch mitkommt" and Siegfried's dying "Brunnhild, heilige Braut," and Tannhauser's dying "Heilige Elisabeth, bitte fur mich."
They were full of their own concerns, Nina's coming maternity, the wrapping of packages behind closed doors, the final trimming of the tree in the library. Leslie had started the phonograph, and it was playing "Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht." Still night, holy night, and only in her was there a stillness that was not holy.
It is a strange coincidence that there are just six syllables in the name of "der heilige Wolfgang." But when you translate it into English, the inspiration of the echo seems to be less exact. The sweetest thing about St.
Towards midnight we rested a few minutes, and a head poking out of a casement directed us to the hotel of Der Heilige Geist, where an apartment, thirty feet square, was prepared for our reception. INSPRUCK, June 4th. No sooner had we passed Fuezen than we entered the Tyrol, and the country of wonders. Those lofty peaks, those steeps of wood I delight in, lay before us.
A mere Clown of a King, thinks George; a mere gesticulating Coxcomb, thinks Friedrich Wilhelm. "ERZ-SANDSTREUER, Arch-Sandbox-Beadle of the HEILIGE ROMISCHE REICH;" it is a lumbering nickname, but intrinsically not without felicity, and the wittiest thing I know of little George.
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